


if you keep trying to forget, what will you remember?

by MichalAsantor



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Firebender Sokka (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichalAsantor/pseuds/MichalAsantor
Summary: Sokka was born the day the sun rose at the end of the polar night, two weeks past his due date. His mother would later joke that he was waiting for the warmth of the rays to finally make his grand debut into the world.
Relationships: Hakoda/Kya (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Sokka/Yue (Avatar)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 160





	1. the stars incline us, they do not bind us

The black snowfall came first. Then, the stench. Fire was a scent the Southern Water Tribe was accustomed to, but the sharp smell of metal was a rarity. There was a pounding of feet, a rustling of heavy fur-lined clothes, and a rush of adrenaline that quickly followed. This was something Hakoda was intimately familiar with. Born into a world ravished with war and loss and unmistakable cruelty, he had long accepted the title of warrior, destined to fight and die for his people. 

What he hadn’t realized when he took charge of the village after the passing of his own father was what came after the battle. He was not prepared for the realities of war, the destruction of his village, the slow killing of a culture he was destined to lead. He was not prepared when his wife, his beloved wife Kya, would flinch at his touch. She held no physical scars, no burns or long cuts from the sharp blade of a sword, but he knew that she too had been touched by this war. 

Still, he loved his wife. He loved his wife more than he had ever loved anyone. He did not blame her for something entirely out of her control. She did not blame him for the scars he brought home nor did she blame him when his eyes clouded over and he was shoved back into the past when the campfire smoke blew in his direction. 

When she became ill for weeks on end, he would wake up with her and hold her hair back, begging her to see a healer. She refused. She knew what was wrong, and she prayed to Tui and La to let her child be Hakoda’s. Hakoda, who had simply held her as she cried for what felt like two moons and encouraged her to feel the pain and let it wash over her body. Hakoda, who had always kissed her cheeks on both sides before they slept, right then left, in hopes of ridding her of the nightmares she had. It didn’t help them. She still dreamt of the man on top of her as the soldier watched. 

Hakoda cried with her when she told him about her pregnancy. He embraced her as they grieved for the hope they once had, but he knew that he would not leave. If their child came out with amber eyes and skin far too fair, he knew he would love them exactly the same. Hakoda was someone who never broke promises, and he knew the vows he took on their wedding day was a promise he would never break. 

Sokka was born the day the sun rose at the end of the polar night, two weeks past his due date. Kya would later joke that he was waiting for the warmth of the rays to finally make his grand debut into the world. Hakoda would retort he was smart for waiting as it was a particularly brutal and cold winter in the Southern Tribe.

Hakoda loved his son from the moment he laid eyes on him. The screaming red-faced boy was a blessing. When he held the boy, _his son_ , for the first time, he knew that he would do whatever it took to protect him from the cruel nature of the war. Hakoda had never broken a promise, but in the back of his mind he knew that this was a promise he could not keep. 

“Isn’t he beautiful,” Kya called from her bed, face flushed despite the bitter cold creeping into the igloo. Hakoda couldn’t even respond, overcome with love for their son. She knew her prayers had been answered when she looked at Sokka. From his big blue eyes to his tan skin, she knew that this boy belonged here in the Southern Water Tribe, untouched by fire and destruction. She would have loved him no matter what, and she knew Hakoda would have remained by her would the circumstances be different, but the knowledge quieted her worst fears. 

It was not until the fire remained lit through the harshest winds did Kya’s fear resurface. 

****

“Kya, we need to talk.” 

The statement made Kya freeze. She gently put down Katara’s folded parka. She turned to look at Hakoda, her heart beating so fast she could feel it in her palms, which had started to sweat. _Don’t be rash_ , she thought to herself, _what are the chances that he wants to discuss_ it? 

But then she notices that Sokka was at his feet, his eyes were red rimmed. The 8 year old was shuffling his feet, kicking at the polar bear dog rug. Hakoda had an arm on Sokka’s shoulders, as if he was guiding him to the igloo as quickly as possible. Her stomach sank.

It was unusual for Sokka to be in trouble, much less cry at something he had done. Their son had always been a beacon of kindness, of humorous wit, and most importantly, integrity. Even at his young age, he understood the courage it took to apologize and take steps to help those he had unintentionally hurt. But to cry? It was uncommon. 

It took one glance at Hakoda to realize what was wrong -- what he discovered. She had been waiting for this day. Kya had always felt how warm her son was even during the coldest of days and the unnatural heat that radiated from the otherwise small fire they huddled around. She knew it was only a matter of time before Hakoda put the pieces together. She feared what he would say to her now that he knew that their worst fear was confirmed. Hakoda’s eyebrows were furrowed. 

“Katara, go play with your friends,” Kya told her daughter, still looking at Hakoda. Hearing the firmness in her mother’s voice, Katara made a quick exit out of the blue cloth opening. 

“Sokka, I think it would be best to leave as well.” 

Sokka, waiting for an escape, ran. 

“Kya-” Hakoda paused, seemingly at a loss for words. The space was silent, save for the wind that pushed against their home. Several seconds passed. 

“I know,” It was all Kya needed to say. A tear slid down her face, but Hakoda did not go to brush it away.

“What do we do now?” Hakoda choked out. His voice was gruff, as if he was holding back tears himself. 

_I don’t know_ , she thinks, but she knows that if there was ever a time to be strong, it was now. 

“We should tell him,” Kya knows it’s what is right. 

“Tell him what? That I’m not his father, that the Fire Nation has stolen everything from us?” Hakoda’s voice raised. _They even stole my son_. It goes unsaid but understood. 

“Do you propose lying to him? Of denying his true nature, of teaching our son to be afraid of who he is?” She did not mean to yell, but the panic that she felt in her chest was bubbling out of her. 

“I just don’t know, Kya,” He was crying now. He strode to take a seat, his head immediately falling to his hands. “I don’t know what to do.” 

Kya watched the form of her husband, but she could not offer comfort. She had never felt so helpless. 

“Let’s wait until he’s older. Until he can understand what it means to be a firebender in the South Pole,” Kya whispered. Hakoda nodded. 

Two years later, Kya was dead. 

The day before a raid took her for the second time, she pulled Sokka aside. He was growing up, and the fire was beginning to get out of control. Her and Hakoda had watched for many years as the campfire rose and fell in rhythm with his deep breaths as he slept, steadily growing with him. At ten years old, the flames had begun to reach the ceiling and she knew there was no denying the truth anymore.

“Sokka, wake up,” She shook her son awake. In his tiny cot, bundled in so many blankets that only his face was visible, he looked so small. He woke with a start, looking for any danger that could have roused him from his sleep. Kya grieved for her son’s innocence. The notion that he was always prepared for another raid was just more proof to her that the war had tainted his way of thinking. When he only saw his mother he got up wearily, confused. 

Kya led him out of the igloo quietly, trying not to disturb the peaceful slumber of Katara and Hakoda. It was a cold night as most nights were, but not to Sokka. The slow snow melted on his face quickly, and Kya frowned. She stepped closer to Sokka, bending down so they could meet at eye level. He had not yet had a major growth spurt, but if Hakoda was any indicator she could expect it soon. 

“Sokka, have you ever felt different?” She asked hesitantly. She reached out to hold Sokka's wrist, willing him to stay here with her, to be her Water Tribe son forever. The stars were unusually bright, reflecting off the snow to create a small glow. She could only see the outline of his face, which was beginning to rapidly lose its tiredness.

“Mom, you’re scaring me,” Sokka had never seen his mother like this. Being pulled out of deep sleep for a conversation with his mother was unnerving. There was something urgent in her voice, an alarm that was normally reserved for the oncoming winter with a shortage of food or Fire Nation raids. His breathing picked up, and he began to fidget. 

“Sweetie, calm down,” Kya embraced Sokka, “There is nothing to fear.” 

Sokka took a deep breath and nodded.

“Have you ever watched the fire? The way it moves, the way it breaths?” Kya questioned. 

Sokka could only nod, his mind racing with the possibilities of what she could be implying. 

“I want you to try something. Hold your hand out,” she took his hand and put his palm up facing the stars. Sokka took a shaky breath. “I want you to imagine the spark flint and steel creates. You got that?” 

Sokka imagines his father, bent over the fire years ago, trying to light a small fire after a fishing trip. The sharp clink and spark of another unsuccessful attempt caused him to sigh and complain about the lack of dry wood when surrounded by water. The ocean was calm, a serene turquoise that pushed gently at the end of the glacier. Around this time, Katara was slowly discovering her capabilities as a bender, and he wanted to prove his worth, his higher level of maturity compared to his younger sister. He asked to try, and his father gave him the fire starter. He clinked it once and the logs were ablaze. He grinned at his father, proud of his success, but his father had only looked at him in horror. What Sokka hadn’t noticed was the fact that his flint and steel didn’t produce a spark, but Hakoda certainly did. 

“Open your eyes.” 

In his hand was a small flame. 

He screamed, and Kya rushed to silence him. It would do no good to wake the village and have them discover the two of them. 

“Mom, what’s happening, why am I doing this?” His voice was high pitched and frantic. Kya had planned for years how to broach the subject with Sokka, had practiced what she would say over and over again when the time came, but now she was speechless. All of her practice could have never prepared her for the reality. 

“You’re a firebender, Sokka.” 

Sokka took a quick intake, the snow around his feet started to slowly melt as his emotions ran wild. It was a wonder he did not discover his ability by himself, but being a firebender in the Water Tribe was not a logical conclusion nor one that is easy to make. The silence stretched for a long time, mother and son coming to terms with this new piece of information. It comes out Sokka in a soft wind, a realization, “I’m a monster.”

Kya’s heart broke. “Sokka, listen to me,” He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were watery, “You are not a monster. You’re my son, my son who loves to go fishing with his father, who loves to beat his sister in penguin sledding, who will one day lead this village. You have been gifted, like Katara, to bend. Bending doesn’t determine who you are, only your actions can.”

A sob tore from his lips. The fire in his hand long extinguished, but Kya had to quickly draw her hands back from his hot skin. 

He closed in on himself. His arms wrapped around his torso, his head bowed. Her action of pulling away seemed to him a sign of her rejection, something that her pretty words could not conceal. 

“We can’t tell anyone,” Sokka sounded so much older than his years. The snow started to come down harder than before, dimming the terrain. He turned to walk away, but Kya pulled him back.

“You still belong here, with your people. You belong in the Southern Water Tribe. This does not change that. Sokka listen to me-” He turned away from her hard. He felt like running far away from here and ignoring this part of him -- this evil in him. He stayed. He needed to know the truth. 

“Who are my parents?” He knew that bending was hereditary. That his grandfather had once been a powerful waterbender, taken by the Fire Nation, and that is why Katara could bend as well. He could not recall any firebending relatives. The only firebending story that was told over the campfire had to do with the war, which always ended in the loss of yet another tribesmen.

“Your father and I are your parents,” She stated simply. 

“Stop lying to me!” 

Kya paused. What was appropriate to tell the young boy? Did he deserve to be burdened by the truth of his existence?

“I am your mother. Your father…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words, “I was attacked during a raid. Your father, the man who has raised you to be the strong man you are today, is your father. The man who attacked me… he is nothing more than a coward.”

Sokka waited and waited until responding, “Okay.” 

He walked back into the igloo, and this time Kya let him go.

And the next day, she was dead. 

And they grieved. 

Grieved for what felt like years. Long nights filled with the quiet sound of sniffles and small gasps. Sokka rarely slept. His mind was consumed with what his mother had told him and all the parts she left out. He studied himself in the ice, looking for any Fire Nation in him to indicate his true heritage but none were to be seen. He grew distant from his father, unsure if he knew the truth. He prayed to Tui and La to show him how to move on, how to control his fire, to make him a true Water Tribesman. But they gave him no insight, and as days turned into months and months turned into years, he stopped praying. 

And then his father left. And he was alone. 

Katara and Gran Gran remained blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside of Sokka. They just thought he was angry at the Fire Nation, angry at his mother for dying and his father for leaving. He refused to do anything but train with his boomerang, delegating the chores to his sister as he tried to get rid of the growing fire within him. 

At first he tried bending it all out. He snuck out during the middle of the night, much like what had happened when he first produced flame, into the open tundra. And then he screamed, and cried, and mourned. Fire flew from his palms uncontrolled until he was weak and exhausted. He collapsed to his knees and for the first time he felt the coldness around his home. The fire came back the next day.

Then he tried to forget. He never thought about bending, kept his “magic” to himself. Told Katara to do the same. With no other benders in the tribe, it was easiest to forget it even existed when neither of them addressed it. Katara was just as angry and spiteful as him, upset that she wasn’t able to live up to her potential and master her element. Sokka wanted to do the opposite. He wanted to expunge this part of himself, to erase it. 

And then Aang came, and suddenly he couldn’t forget.


	2. bad is the plan that cannot change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You also have a duty to me, your family!

"Sokka, we have to help him!" Katara took off running. Damn her bleeding heart. 

There was no way the enormous glowing iceberg could be anything good, but as he had learned, once his sister was set on something, there was little he could do to stop it. His sword was grabbed from his back, and she was running.

"Katara, wait! You don't know what could be in there!" He screamed after her. The cold water kicked at his heels as he jumped across the ice path left after Katara's catastrophic meltdown. He could see a vague form through the translucent sphere of ice. It was a boy, he decided, young. How he got there was unknown, but it was unlikely he was still alive. Being trapped in the arctic cold without a parka meant death within hours; Sokka could not imagine anyone surviving encased in ice underwater. How tragic, Sokka thought, a life barely started before it ended. 

He was unsure how his sister would respond to the body. She was young enough to still have hope, so inexperienced that she genuinely believed the best out of the world.

"Katara, I don't think this is a good idea," His words of caution fell on deaf ears. Sokka’s sword held in Katara’s hand hit the iceberg, a large dent now stood in place of the unnaturally round wall. 

It only took a few times before he heard the ice crack, and a sudden terrifying realization hit Sokka: it was hollow. Icebergs do not freeze hollow. 

"Katara, we need to leave," He spoke firmly, trying not to betray his real panic.

"I almost got it," She took another swing, and suddenly they were encased by the wind—the warm winds. Sokka’s hair was standing on the back of his neck. He had never felt warm winds before. Sokka's left arm reached to cover his face, his right searching for Katara. Through his glove, he felt the warm, still alive hand of his sister and held on. He wasn't sure if he could save her if she fell off the thin ice sheet they were currently standing on. 

"Katara, I'm serious; we need to leave," Sokka's grip tightened on his sister's hand, and he tugged her away from the opening. She pulled back, eyes still focused on the strange phenomenon in front of them. 

"Sokka, look!" There was the dead boy. Standing. And glowing. And now falling down the side of the ice. 

Katara ran to catch him. 

And then this tiny _boy_ was in his sister's arms, looking up at her. Sokka was not quite sure how to proceed, and the fear in the very forefront of his mind was screaming at him. They needed to leave, and quickly. The glowing blue light was a beacon for trouble, and Sokka did not intend on finding out what kind of trouble was coming. He heard the boy talking, but it did not process in Sokka's mind, which was working too fast to comprehend anything but impending danger that was coming their way if his intuition was to be trusted. 

Surely, Katara would come to her senses soon and stop being so stubborn about the strange (dangerous) boy in the iceberg. Surely, she would not insist that he comes to the village and befriend the only people he had ever known in his life. Surely, Katara would not take him on a tour of the old wreckage that symbolized the destruction of their culture and set off a flare. But he knew his sister better than that, and the desire for her to help would overpower any logic. The flare burned hot in the sky, a red that is rarely seen so far south. And now that fear, which was dormant for so long, was back. He had not felt this kind of fear since the raid where his mother, his protector, had died. 

He sat near the crumbling watchtower, waiting for Katara and Aang to come back. The distant sound of a ship was barely audible, but the quiet that came with living in the South Pole made even the softest sounds more pronounced. He looked at his village, the women and children his father had left him to protect, and his resolve hardened. This stranger, airbender or not, needed to go. He was endangering his people. 

Sokka sat for a while longer before seeing the telltale yellow fabrics -- something that had fascinated Sokka when he had come to his senses again because where would you get yellow dye from and how is that even logical to have? Aang in the distance looked concerned, and Katara's face reflected the anxiety Sokka was feeling. In the back of his mind, he knew Katara understood what was happening and felt the stomach-turning fear he and the rest of his village were experiencing, but it did not overshadow the anger Sokka felt toward her. 

She endangered them. 

First, by bringing in this stranger, who not only threatened them with his presence but continually denied the war that had taken so much from him. Then, she decided to go on a Southern Water Tribe tour of the most dangerous landmarks for the stranger to "accidentally" set off a signal to the Fire Nation ships who were surely on standby. The audacity and blindness his sister possessed astounded Sokka, and for her to remain safe, he needed to remind her why the village looked like it did, why Sokka was the oldest man in the tribe, why their mother was gone. 

"Katara!" Sokka yelled at the approaching figures. He had worked himself up for this confrontation. Katara only pushed past him and he reached out to grab her arm and she whipped around fast, tears glistening in her eyes. 

"Katara, do you not understand the danger we are in, the threat that he," Sokka gestured to Aang, who recoiled back, guilt eminent on his face, "brings to us?" 

"Of course I do, Sokka," Katara said matter of factly, her words spitting with fire, "I hear it just as well as you do. I know what is coming; I am not seven anymore." 

"Then why would you bring danger directly to our shores? We have no men, no warriors!" Sokka was exacerbated with his sister's actions at this point, and words were tumbling out of his mouth, "We only have scared little boys barely off their mother's breast!"

Sokka then turned to Aang, "And you, you have brought the Fire Nation directly to us. I knew you were untrustworthy, and you have done nothing to disprove my skepticism. Leave us." 

Katara looked at Sokka, practically shaking with rage. 

"Sokka, he is my only chance at learning waterbending! There are no masters here, no other benders! You don't know what it is like!" 

Sokka's heart clenched. He knew precisely how Katara felt, but how could he say that. He knew his sister's affinity to Aang was in part due to her desperation at finding someone who could teach her something that was her blood right. 

"We can find you another master, someone who can waterbend," He began, but Katara quickly cut him off. 

"Where? The Northern Tribe who haven't communicated to us in 60 years? In case you haven't noticed, Aang is the only person who has come to the village that wasn't part of the Fire Nation since we were born," Katara's chest heaved as her fury became uncontrolled. 

"I have a duty to protect our people! Father left us, and now I am the only person who can take care of us, to keep us safe from the Fire Nation!"

"You also have a duty to me, your family!" 

Silence came over the small group. Aang was visibly uncomfortable with the conversation, shuffling his feet while Sokka and Katara stared each other down. 

"For the sake of you and our people, Aang must leave," There was firmness in Sokka's voice, but also a quiet resignation. Katara, on some level, was right, but Sokka couldn't even admit it to himself.

"Then I'm leaving too," Katara took Aang's hand and began to walk away, but Aang remained where he was. 

"Katara, these people are your family," Sokka's eyes snapped to Aang, who was looking at Katara. He was surprised by Aang's reluctance to take Katara with him. 

"Aang," Katara's voice was watery, and Sokka felt a ping of regret. 

"I will leave; you belong with your family. Besides, I have to go find the other airbenders. What if they forgot how to make fruit pies?" The humor Aang attempted to use to diffuse the situation fell on deaf ears. Katara let go of Aang's hand, a silent goodbye, and walked past Sokka. 

"Are you happy now?" She murmured as her shoulder bumped into her brother's. He let her walk alone, watching Aang's back as he disappeared into the horizon. He then followed his sister back to the small village on the precipice of an invasion. 

***

The ship was now visible from the top of the snow wall that surrounded the small tribe. Sokka slid down the side to Katara and Gran-Gran, both anxiously waiting at the bottom. 

"They are close," Sokka said with resignation. Gran-Gran looked at him with sympathy. 

"How should we prepare?" Katara asked Sokka, the argument from earlier in the back of their minds as the Fire Nation drew closer. 

"We don't," Gran-Gran said. "I have lived long enough in this war to know that we will never be able to overcome the Fire Nation alone. Katara, do not show your bending, no matter what happens or they will take you." 

"Gran-Gran!" Katara's voice rang out, dismayed at her defeated attitude. 

"She's right," Sokka piped in. "We cannot afford to lose you, don't do anything stupid." 

Despite his thoughts regarding women soldiers, which they should not be allowed to fight, he knew his sister would want to. His sister was valuable in the tribe, maybe more than himself. She did the dirty work, and he had the glory. And he knew his Gran Gran was right -- the stories told of waterbenders taken before bounced in his head, reminding him of his sister's circumstances. As the only bender in the Southern Tribe, she needed to be protected. 

"So we just sit and watch as firebenders destroy our home?" Katara's disbelief was evident. 

"We have no choice," Gran-Gran replied. 

The snowfall picked up, blurring Sokka's vision as it laid on his eyelashes. Katara looked at him, contemplating. 

"Don't do anything stupid either," was the final note of the conversation. The ship was closer now, nearing them at an alarming pace. Sokka glanced at his small family one more time and marched up the top of the perimeter wall. The waves created by the ship were crashing into the ice sheet, and Sokka could finally see the ship. Smaller than the last one, but his memory of that day was hazy. 

Sokka stood his ground when the ship slammed into the village, which finally knocked over the watchtower, which was previously leaning over significantly. The ship stood for a long time before it opened up, the rush of warm air hit him for the second time this week. It was different than when Aang emerged from the iceberg, the smell of ash and oil hitting him unexpectedly. 

A lone figure walked toward him, obviously not yet grown. Just another disgusting display of the Fire Nation, who had so many soldiers but yet still decided to send children into the war. It was different from the use of children within his own tribe, born out of necessity rather than cruelty. At least, that is how he justified it to himself. 

"Where is he?" the lone figure stated when he reached the end of the landing ramp. Sokka stood at the ready, his club held to attack. This soldier was different from others who have come to their village, soldiers who attacked as soon as the crunch of snow was under their feet.

"Where is the avatar?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking around, life has been crazy.


End file.
